No one could know. No one could find out. She panted slightly, feeling the beads of sweat starting to form on her brow, down her chest.This was hers, not to be shared. This moment was going to be taken greedily, wantonly, without self-denial or shame. She neared the apex, reaching the height with a sudden burst, throwing her head back as she broke through the barrier that had been holding her back.

The stranger stood beside her at the top of the river, also sopping wet from a combination of sweat and the river water from which they had climbed their way through to get to the summit.

In a moment of unexpected unexplainable joy, Jo kissed the man. She felt him start under her mouth, before he wrapped his arms tightly around her and began to actively participate. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. That's the way she liked it. For now, at least.Without a word, she disengaged herself, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the nearby leafy woodland."William, my name is William." She heard him say as he followed her willingly into the dusky undergrowth.

William eventually led the way to a remarkably empty white-sand beach, blue ocean waves lapping gently against the shore. A fire pit sat roughly half-way to the ocean, constructed with smooth stones and a rudimentary mortar. Not far away sat an off pile of jungle fronds, clearly covering something. He held his arms open in presentation.

"You look proud of something, Blondie. Are you going to explain?"

She was able to admire the terrain, the natural beauty of the spot, with an added touch of something like respect for the guy in front of her, to be able to take her somewhere where no-one else was. They were on a popular destination, after all.He smirked at her, making his way towards the fire pit.

"This, gorgeous, is paradise in paradise. All the beauty and warmth, and none of the annoying crowds," he explained, waving for her to follow.

"The trails we took here aren't on any maps."

She followed behind, taking careful steps to dampen any noise she made with her travels.

"How do you know about it then?"

She could see, in her mind's eye, swimming in that almost turquoise coloured water, but she forced her gaze into William.

"Who do you think made the trails?" he offered, flashing a boyish grin over his shoulder. Reaching the palm fronds, he unceremoniously kicked them aside, revealing a wooden door in the sand, with a keypad. Crouching down, he tapped in a quick code and pulled it open.

Inside was a small stack of firewood, a tricorder, a torch, an small hand phaser, and several small casks the size of a human head. He grabbed one of those and offered it to Feyna.

She opened the container and tentatively took a sniff, memories of a distant trainer telling her to never smell chemicals as even fumes can have a detrimental effect on an agent. Feeling his eyes on her, she slowly tilted her head back, throwing caution into the wind, and took a gulp of the drink before passing it back to him.

"Smooth." She commented, not able to hide the small pause as the drink burned it's way to her stomach.

With the warmth of the drink in her belly combined with the heat of the sun, she untucked her shirt and kicked off the boots and socks she wore before settling down in the sand to lean against a conveniently placed fallen log.

"It really is beautiful here." She murmured.

William wasn't far behind, sitting next to her by the log, cask in hand. He took a drink and nodded, looking out to the ocean, before leaning back and giving a relaxed sigh."Beautiful, and peaceful. Good place to forget about whatever's got you wound up so tight, yeah?" He gave a somewhat knowing smile, motioning to the cask.

Jo drank again, starting to be able to enjoy the drink for more than it's fire. "Not sure if forgetting is possible."

She put the drink in front of her, within reach of both of them. "If you knew, if you were able to know, you'd understand. Forgetting can be dangerous."

Her bare toes scrunched in the sand, as she turned her head to look at William. "But compartmentalising, that I am an expert in." She blindly grasped the bottle, still looking directly at him, as she offered him the wooden cask'

William gave her a perhaps surprisingly warm smile at that, taking the cask and raising it to her briefly in toast."To compartmentalisation, then." She took a drink, giving a satisfied grunt at the fruity burn, setting it back between them.

"To rum!" She responded, a smile crossing her face.

"So, feel like compartmentalizing with me for a few more days?"

Jo looked at him, pretending to examine him closely in order to make a decision. "I think I have the space in my schedule."

Her smile broadened as she stood and divested herself of her shirt. "But my schedule says swimming first!"

Jo sat, her mind drifting to places it shouldn't for a moment. She found herself wondering where she would be now, if she had never been assigned to Rome's protection detail. If Dixon hadn't taken him hostage and tortured him. Would she be like Bronson: Eccentric and seemingly lonely? Or like Dixon: a psychopath with an agenda? Or could it all have worked out for the best, like Lyon and Miller?Was she happy? Right now, she found she couldn't tell. She knew things made her feel good, like Niamh finally being more her friend, and the cake and coffee they had shared. Bantering with her golden lion, and teasing him in kind with his husband. Rome, just by making her feel like she was more than what she can do.

But then he was also the one who reminded her of what she was, and what she had done in her previous employment. A brief touch to the knife in it's sheath on her hip, a comfort rather than a bad memory. The good outweighed the bad, and that is how she was going to leave it. Her contemplation over, she looked back to her console, updating herself on what she had missed in those few moments.

So, Lyon and Rome have left me in command of the bridge again. I think they do it on purpose, assign themselves to an away team to schmooze and probably drink whiskey whilst I’m left having to ‘interact’. At least this time I get to put on a character. Not many people get to spend time with the true version of myself; Rome, Lyon and Miller notwithstanding, and I’m not sure that some of the senior crew are the right people for that. Not right now at least. So I’m going to be a different sort of Commander. The friendly bantering kind. Like Sumner, or the famous Riker. After all, people talk to characters like that, open up to them. Do things more willingly.

And it’s the furthest away from what I had to be for him. It’s not often I recollect the past, not often I think of things in particular, but something Goodman said about Romulans just wedged it loose and it needs to be extracted. Like venom.

His name I won’t say. His name is not worth saying. Nor is the name of who set my orders, but the Tal Shiar is a dangerous bedfellow. And I wish I could say the pillowtalk was not worth the degradation he put me through, but alas it was. And Intel thought it was, considering they set me back to drain him dry, but not with the knife in his gut like I wanted.Why would they do that to someone? Destroy what innocence they had left. Though sometimes I think there must have been more to it. That whisper of a name ….That whisper of a section…….

But one must do their duty for Starfleet. Although some duties are painful and leave deeper scars than others.